On the Run
by Mythrilforge
Summary: Voldemort is alive and well, he controls the ministry, and muggle-borns like Ivy Taggart are on the run from gangs of snatchers. She and two others take shelter in an old shed within an abandoned apple orchard, but they are not alone.
1. Fear - The Orchard

**Fear - (Part 1 of 2, The Orchard)**

Voldemort has shown himself and muggle-borns, like Ivy Taggart, are on the run. She and two others take shelter in an old apple orchard, but they are not alone. This is a 2-part encounter featuring a particular favorite from my "Peek Goes to Hogwarts" novel.

As always - I own no rights to the Potter world save the books on a shelf.

* * *

"Benjamin, say something," called Ivy but her voice was raised no more than a whisper. "Benjamin?"

Benjamin lay a short distance away, unmoving and unblinking. His eyes stared up at Ivy and Dexter, his mouth was opened as if ready to speak. His face was left in a grimace of pain, frozen as if the last moments of his agony followed him to the grave.

"Benjamin, please…," whispered Dexter. "Don't be dead. Please don't be dead."

Two muggle-borns and a "maybe" had taken shelter in an old overgrown and abandoned apple orchard. An old shed, where tools and supplies had been stored and where workers gathered out from under the hot sun, kept them from the worst of the seeping cold and driving rain. A hand pump a short distance from the door was rusted and tangled in wet clinging weeds, but with no small effort, drew up water. The promise of apples, even if they were brown and shriveled and laying on the ground, drew them in like nifflers to all things shiny. It was a trap for those on the run from the ministry and the snatchers and the bounty hunters. Muggle-borns, known as "mud-bloods" and "blood-stains" by those claiming better, always found their way to places such as this one. And always, there were dark wizards laying in wait.

In the same minutes the rain stopped, the trap was sprung.

* * *

"Dexter!" called Ivy in a deep, raspy, voice. "Eat me!" Floating before her was an apple, one of which she had spared from a mass apple boiling. She had animated it with Benjamin's wand, using a clever parlor spell meant for entertaining children. The apple was shriveled with an old craggy surface which made it ideal to work into facial features. A little moss for hair, and it looked like one of the shrunken heads Ivy had seen hanging in the front windscreen of the night bus.

Dexter snickered.

"Ivy, must you?" breathed Benjamin as he shook his head in mild exasperation. He let loose with a great sigh. "We're not children."

Ivy spun the apple around to face Benjamin. "Benjamin!" she called in the same deep voice. "Blow it out your port-side pucker-hole."

Dexter guffawed.

Benjamin fought back a smile. It won out and curled up the corners of his mouth.

Ivy smiled and flicked the wand causing the apple to sail through the air towards a metal trough in the center of the small shed. The trough was elevated, like a barnyard Pensieve on wrought-iron stilts. A smallish fire, kindled beneath, had set the water within, aboil. A dozen or so apples swelled to bursting with the urging of practical magic. Ivy aimed for the trough, with her face-featured apple, but it missed the water by more than three feet.

Ivy sighed and shook her head.

Benjamin laughed and held out his hand. "Gimme that back," he said, referring to the wand. "You're going to hurt someone."

Ivy placed it in his hand. "That wand doesn't like me, Ben. It's a dead fish. Seriously, I've seen more play from a hickory chair leg."

"A hickory chair leg?" repeated Benjamin with a laughing scoff.

"Sure," said Ivy, "with a paver-brick heartstring for a core."

"...And you've seen one of these paver-brick core, chair leg of hickory, wands, have you? Something to compare with?"

"Well, no," said Ivy as she gave a surrendering grin. "But if I had, it would have had more play in it than that dead-fish, pith-ash, garden-stake, you call a wand."

Benjamin smiled. "Careful, it'll hear you and you'll hurt its feelings. Then, where would we be?"

Dexter laughed. "We'd be no-where. Just like we are now."

"Wait, what?" said Ivy, rounding on the young man and standing up tall. "This, my brilliant little cockerel, is a _palace_, and fit for two fine princes...well, one fine prince and one somewhat less so." She thumbed towards Benjamin. "And of course, a palace for…someone...who's not a prince but might be a...". She gave a mock-threatening nod to Benjamin. "Hint. Ben. Female."

"Oh," replied Benjamin, "right, a _princess_, of course." Benjamin gave a sweeping bow. "Your majesty."

"It's 'Your _Highness'_, you booby. I'm a princess, not a queen." Ivy gave a laughing smile and returned a deep curtsy with extended hands and pinched fingers as if holding out the pleats of a long dress.

"Of course," said Benjamin with a laugh. "Your Highness".

* * *

Ivy, Dexter, and Benjamin had been on the run since before the fall of Scrimgeour, the Minister for Magic, in early August. Pius Thickness had been installed as Voldemort's new puppet minister but the round-ups had already begun. Bands of wizards had taken it upon themselves to identify muggle-borns in anticipation of Voldemort's rise to power. Ivy had been detained where she lived in Loughborough, south of Nottingham. Her wand had been taken and she was ordered to remain with her parents. Instead, she packed a small suitcase with traveling clothes and essentials and on the evening of her twenty-second birthday, had cake with her parents, and boarded a bus heading southwest.

Ivy was on the run for forty minutes, when at a stop east of Birmingham, three non-muggles boarded. The two wizards and one witch were obvious stand-outs because of their mismatched attire. Muggles were fully capable of dressing in unusual clothes either by choice or lack of reasonable fashion sense. Stripes, plaids, mustard yellow, and plum purple, should never, ever appear on the same body at the same time, yet the first of the threesome aboard, was dressed just so. Fashion was the quickest way to know when you were among wizards and witches. The second quickest way was their discomfort in the muggle world and their excessive fidgeting - muggle-borns knew how to ride a bus comfortably while most non-muggle wizards and witches sat as if their bottoms were on fire.

Each time the bus made a stop, seats emptied and filled, and each time the three snatchers (Ivy did not know the name given to them, at the time) moved closer and closer to her. Ivy was heading to Bristol but she fled on foot at a stop near Worcester. The snatchers gave chase but she lost them in a patch of thick woods to the east. She also lost the few belongings she had taken with her, having left the small suitcase on the bus seat next to where she had sat.

Ivy hid in the woods for three days and was near mad with hunger when Dexter and Benjamin came out from hiding.

Dexter was a sixth-year Hufflepuff with brown hair and brown eyes. He was tall and lean with a slight hunch at his shoulders. He had a camouflage military jacket, jeans, and military boots. He had a knife in a sheath on his hip. He was the adopted son of James and Mia Hurst, and when he could not provide proof of blood-lineage, he was dragged from their home, beaten, and left near-dead in another part of the country. He posted several letters back to his parents but did not return home for fear of another attack.

Benjamin, like Ivy, was muggle-born. He was Ivy's age with brown curly hair and a stubbled chin. He was shorter than Dexter but taller than Ivy. He was stout and strong and carried himself with an unruffled and confident air. He had never hidden his non-magic bloodline and fought numerous scrapes over it, but when his father's shop was burned down and his muggle sister had been taken but later released, he took to the highways, hoping to draw the wizarding world away from his family.

Benjamin had a wallet full of pound notes for muggle food and essentials, and for keeping his eighties-vintage Renault LeCar fueled. His wand covered most of the other needfuls including breaking into vacant homes for shelter and setting up concealment charms. He met Dexter outside a Dunkin Donuts. Dexter had not eaten in days and wolfed down the donuts Benjamin offered him.

Benjamin and Dexter took Ivy into their small band. They traveled across the south of England until the money was gone. They tried to sell off the LeCar before it ran out of petrol, but in the end, they left it in a parking lot in Reading. They walked the rail lines towards Bristol, which was Ivy's original plan. They were cold, wet, and hungry when they came upon the overgrown orchard. They spied the old storage shed through the trees and deepening rain and sought to take shelter before night settled in. Benjamin set concealment charms around the shed but he and the others were not the first to arrive there, and his best work served no other purpose but to provide a false sense of security.

* * *

Ivy and Benjamin stood in the flickering light of the smallish fire, staring long into each other's eyes. Benjamin's smile slipped away as his pulse quickened and his breath shallowed. Ivy's smile broadened. Another young man was falling for her. She loved to smile. She loved to tease and laugh loudly. She was comfortable among people even in the first meeting. Benjamin was not the first boy to mistake her hearty nature for fondness, but this time, Ivy was quite certain she was falling for him too.

Apples and boiling water. An old damp shed and a flickering fire. A young woman and a young man found each other in the harrow of fear and flight. The rain drummed on the roof above them but in that moment, like the holding of one's breath, it ceased.

"Ben…" said Ivy with a light tenderness.

Just then, a nearby bird lit out suddenly followed by the sound of light footfalls in the sodden turf. The moment was lost. Ivy, Benjamin, and Dexter were no longer alone.

Benjamin treaded softly to the door and eased it open. He expected muggles of the non-magic sort to have stumbled across them, and a mild redirecting spell would send them on their way. His concealments were far from perfect and he had done this many times before. Instead, he fell to the floor writhing in pain and clutching at his chest.

End - Part 1 of 2

Thank you for reading!

* * *

**Leaving Comments made easy - Cut and paste the following as best fits!**

\- This FanFic was awesome - keep them coming!

\- Give up your day job. You, sir, are ready for the big-time!

\- Ivy for Minister! Who's with me?

\- Brick Pavers don't have heartstrings. If you must mess with established canon, kindly click over to the Twilight fanfic.

\- Americans don't use the word "Booby" as an insult - just saying.

\- I detect a troubled soul desperately seeking approval. Have you considered therapy?

\- I love Harry Potter! Where is he?

\- This Fanfic was a dead fish - like Benjamin's wand.

\- Roses are red and violets are blue - I don't write fanfic and neither should you.

\- Roses are blue and violets are red - My words don't rhyme and neither does this.


	2. Fear - Trapped

As always - I own no rights to the Potter world save the books on a shelf.

* * *

Voldemort has shown himself and muggle-borns, like Ivy Taggart, are on the run. She and two others take shelter in an old apple orchard, but they are not alone. This is part 2 of a 3-part encounter featuring a particular favorite from my "Peek Goes to Hogwarts" novel.

* * *

**Trapped**

The rain had stopped and quiet footfalls were heard nearby. Benjamin had opened the shed door expecting muggles. He had cast multiple concealment charms to hide the shed from others but he was far from an adept and interlopers sometimes stumbled through. Benjamin was struck down by the Cruciatus Curse. He writhed in searing pain for a short moment and died there in the damp and dirt.

Ivy flattened against the wall."Dexter, stay back!" she shouted as other spells shot through the open doorway and burst against the far wall or blasted holes through it.

Instead, Dexter dove across the floor to Ivy's side and attempted to fold his long legs tightly up to his chest. He pressed into her out of fear. She held him tight with her arm.

Benjamin had his wand in hand when opened the door and it fell a short distance from Ivy. She reached out with her hand and called, "Accio!"

Ivy could work magic without a wand, especially if affecting muggle objects. She had limited success in the wizarding world because magic needed to be channeled and directed to affect other magics. She could float a cup, or turn pages of a book, or untie shoelaces at a short distance, which drew smiles or frowns depending on her intent to amuse or annoy. Regardless, the ability was a hint at having non-magical parents. It was held by the uninformed, that children of magic, living outside the world of magic, developed their fledgling abilities without wand-using parents to serve as models. Ivy's parents were in fact muggles and in Voldemort's world, she never used the incriminating ability unless absolutely needed.

Benjamin's wand flew up and over to Ivy's hand. Her heart leaped at the success.

"Ollobay Portilus Regales!" she called with a swiping motion of the wand, which caused the door to swing on its hinges, slam shut, and bind itself into the doorframe.

Spells continued to impact the door and the outside walls and some burst through. Dust and splinters of wood fell upon Ivy and Dexter. Ivy leaned forward and gently tapped Benjamin's shoulder.

"Benjamin, say something," Ivy called out. "Benjamin?"

"Benjamin, please…," whispered Dexter. "Don't be dead. Please don't be dead."

Benjamin was unmoving.

"Come out like good little kittens," called a voice when the attack paused. "No need for anyone else to get hurt."

Ivy considered the fallen Benjamin, _her_ Benjamin if she had just one more moment with the young man. He was not hurt. He was dead.

R.H. Slaughter was an ambitious man who led the small band of snatchers. He chose the name "Slaughter" because he would never be considered for a Death Eater by the dark lord, with his milquetoast given name of, "Robert Honesty Goodfavor".

He moved in closer with wand out and instructed his fellow snatchers to do the same.

"We know you're muggle-born," said Slaughter. He was close enough to be heard with his speaking voice. "There are many just like you being returned to the ministry for processing. That's all we're doing, processing. After that, you'll get your lives back. No more mucking around in the cold or wallowing in the mud. Whattaya say?"

"We're trapped," whispered Dexter. "There's no escape."

Ivy looked around the shed for anything that might help them. Nothing remained except cobwebs, the old water trough, and a long-abandoned bird nest up in the rafters. She could try to apparate, and at the end that might be their only hope, but Benjamin's ash and unicorn-hair wand was awkward in her hand and successfully transporting anywhere required focus and precision.

"C'mon kittens," called Slaughter. "It's raining again and that old shed is full of holes - well, now it is, anyway. Let's get you somewhere dry and warm."

"He means to the ministry," said Ivy softly to Dexter. Her tone was sarcastic as she aimed the wand at the door and considered spells that might strengthen it.

"Yes to the ministry," replied Slaughter. He was right outside the door and could hear her.

Ivy jumped up and backed from the door. She held the ash wand out before her in trembling hands. Dexter jumped up too and moved in behind her. He held his knife out at the ready, but against wands, it was little better than a play-toy.

"We'll get you into dry clothes and feed you a hot meal," continued Slaughter. "I'm a gentleman, really, and true to my word."

There were other snatchers who had moved in close to the shed along with Slaughter. Ivy and Dexter heard several of them snickering and stifling laughs.

"We can't go out there," whispered Ivy. "We can't."

"Can we apparate?" said Dexter. His voice was as quiet as Ivy's but quivering. "You could try. I'll hold onto you."

"I'll splinch it, Dex. Do you know what that means? It means we leave pieces behind - maybe big pieces."

"We're going to die if we don't try," said Dexter, "just like Ben."

"Kittens, I'm getting soaked to the skin out here," growled Slaughter. "At some point, _soon_, my good nature will end and me and my snatcher pals will tear down this shed, with you in it."

"Benjamin is dead," called Ivy in reply. She could hear Slaughter testing the door and running his wand-tip around the frame. She could see his silhouette pass before the many holes. "How do we know you won't kill us too?"

"Well now, that is a shame," said Slaughter with a pause. "It's a waste, really." A dull flash and a slight rattling of the door meant he had removed Ivy's door-binding spell. "That spell was only meant to get his attention," continued Slaughter. "If he were in a better way - not so starved and run-down - he would have lived. He _should_ have lived."

Slaughter moved back from the door and gave a whispered call to the others. Their footfalls could be heard coming back around the shed to take up places near him. Slaughter and his snatchers were about to blast through the door. "Just as the two of you _should _have…"

Ivy padded over to the door and looked through one of the larger blast holes. Slaughter was counting down on his fingers from three. He and his gang were at the ready with their wands aimed at the door. More than several of the snatchers had anticipating grins spread across their faces.

"Wait, wait," called Ivy. "Stop. Okay, we're coming out."

"Ivy, no," hissed Dexter. "Let's apparate out of here. You have to try."

"No Dex. This thing is cold and clumsy." Ivy gave the wand a quick wave. "I'd rather try talking to them than gamble with it. Maybe I can reach them. Maybe they'll listen to reason."

"Well, kittens?" growled Slaughter. "We're waiting."

"It'll be okay," said Ivy. "You'll see."

Ivy tried the door, her binding spell had been wiped away as if it was dust on a tabletop. The door creaked and swung wide. The filtered light of the rain-gray evening broke the darkness of the inside shed. The small fire under the metal trough sputtered and failed as a cold breeze whipped through.

Four men and three women stood before the door. Each wizard or witch, dressed in greys or blacks, faced Ivy and young Dexter behind her. Each wizard or witch aimed their wand at Ivy's chest and the frenzied heart beating within it.

Ivy stepped into the open with Benjamin's wand out with fear crashing over her in waves.

"What have we here?" said a wizard on Ivy's left. His face was pitted. His hair was greasy. His grubby hands were thin like claws and topped with dirt-caked fingernails. He was called "Swede", not because of some Nordic heritage but more because the shape of his head bore a likeness to the common "Swedish Turnip", also known for being very dense and thick.

"Another little pretty," sneered a witch on Ivy's right. "They're always good for sport." The woman's face was angled forward and cast in darkness. Her thin-lipped grin pulled taught over rotted teeth. Her voice dipped low. "And I _do_ love sport." Bethal was a short, gray-haired, witch from Pyre, where dark wizards gather. She could not produce a documented lineage, nor could anyone from that region, but their allegiances to dark wizards like Voldemort and Grindelwald were never questioned.

Ivy's gaze jumped from wizard to witch to wizard, from one to another, across the semi-circle of snatchers, and back to Slaughter who stood foremost and center.

"We've apples inside." Ivy's voice shook but she drew herself up with some effort and flashed a strained smile. "They're freshly boiled and, well... okay, they're disgusting really, but who's hungry? They're hot."

A wizard to Slaughter's right gave a scoffing laugh. His name was Tillik, of the Swampleach Tilliks, near Bree. He had pure blood running through his veins with a foul heart to pump it. "Let's get this over with, Slaughter. I'm cold."

"And, we have a warm fire…", Ivy continued with her best effort. She looked back at the metal trough. The small fire was now little more than a thin line of smoke. "We _had_ a warm fire," said Ivy, trying to make a light joke of it. She faltered when her eyes took in the fallen Benjamin. "Did I...did I mention the apples?"

"Don't much care if we get the living bounty on them," said another further to the right. He ignored Ivy as if she didn't exist, or was at the least, not worth responding to. His name was Spedlester. He could not trace magic use back through the ages but both his parents could use a wand as well as the next wizard or witch. "I'm soaked, I'm tired, and this little two-knut, tart needs to shut her gob."

"Living bounty?" breathed Dexter. "They're going to kill us."

"Dexter hush," hissed Ivy.

Slaughter smiled. "They won't be trouble," he said to both Ivy and Dexter but he was speaking at Ivy because she had the wand. "Right, little miss?"

Ivy shook her head. "None, sir, even less so if you just let us go."

"That's not going to happen," said Slaughter with a laugh. "You'll fetch a good price. You and the tall one, here"

"Dead or alive", added the witch on Ivy's right, the one who loved her "sport". She gave a toothy grin and a gravelly cackle. "But 'dead' don't need to be right off, see? It can be slow and take days."

Several of the snatchers laughed. They knew the gray-haired witch as being particularly cruel to the young.

Ivy gulped. It was time to attempt an apparition. There was no negotiating with the snatchers. The "Processing" at the Ministry would likely be far from agreeable when rewards for their capture were given whether living or not. Processing was likely something very conclusive and very life-ending.

"Now hold on, miss," said Slaughter as he eased into a ready stance. "I can see it in your eyes - you are about to do something rash and untoward." Slaughter held his off-hand up to the others as if stating, "this one's mine." His eyes narrowed and his face drew into a sneer. "If you're not careful you'll hurt my feelings and none of us want that."

"Look, we just want to go," said Ivy with a faltering voice but she attempted another smile. She _liked _people and she was _comfortable _with people and some people just needed a little extra encouragement to be won over, even ruffian-thugs doing the bidding of an evil dark lord. She held her hands up with the wand facing away. "Come, friends. Whattaya say?"

Just then, three figures popped into the area between Ivy and Dexter, and Slaughter and his snatchers. Hermione Granger arrived first, followed a fractional moment later by Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. A full five seconds ticked away before anyone understood what had happened.

* * *

This ends part 2 of 3

Please share your thoughts. What do we think of Ivy? Who are the canon scholars out there - Have I pushed the limits a bit with wandless magic? Can anyone apparate with any wand if they are comfortable with the spell? Should Ivy try it or best not? As always, please leave your comments.


	3. Fear - Wandless and Alone

As always - I own no rights to the Potter world save the books on a shelf.

* * *

Voldemort has shown himself and muggle-borns, like Ivy Taggart, are on the run. She and two others took shelter in an old apple orchard, but they were not alone. This is part 3 of a 3-part encounter featuring a particular favorite from my "Peek Goes to Hogwarts" novel.

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Wandless and Alone**

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on the run and avoiding capture, as so many others like them were. Hermione had chosen the location of their next camp, which just happened to be within the jaws of a closing trap, and had it not been for Ivy's, Benjamin's, and Dexter's preceding arrival, they would have been the captured prey.

In that moment of confusion, Dexter sprung out from around Ivy, snatched out the wand from her upturned hand, and with his long legs bounding, charged through the nearby row of trees. He cleared the tangle of brush and was through the next row of trees before anyone else acted.

Hermione was next. She whipped her wand through the motions of a second apparition spell.

"Wait!" shouted Ivy. "Take me with you!" She reached out for the ginger-headed boy, Ron, who was near to her, and whose eyes were as wide as goose-eggs.

Ron reached for Ivy in return while grasping Harry's arm. Harry tightened his grip on Hermione's shoulder. Hermione paused for a blink. She recognized Ivy. Ivy had been in Ravenclaw House and was maybe three or four years older than she, Harry, and Ron. The Essence of Dittany in Hermione's bag, the small bottle that was used to save Ron after a grievous splinching, had been given to her by Ivy.

Hermione considered the chances of successfully trans-locating four people even as she completed the spell. She had no preparation and no clear vision of the destination. The odds were slim at best, but she had to try.

A hair's breadth was the distance between Ron's and Ivy's fingertips, but touch, they did not. The three were gone in a flash, leaving Ivy there, wandless and without hope.

Ivy looked around her. She alone stood before the snatchers. She alone was captured. She alone would be processed by the Ministry, and whatever that meant, but not before the squat, gray-haired, grinning witch had her "sport".

Ivy fell to her knees, not in despair, but instead, she gave a laugh born on incredulity. She thought of Ben who was dead and gone just as she was confessing her love to him. Hermione and Harry and Ron were arrived and were gone - the Weasley boy had been _right _there, their fingers needed only to have touched, but he was gone too. Dexter was high-tailing away, crashing through the far and distant underbrush, running at speed with the wand he had just taken from her hand. She and her companions had not eaten in days and there were a dozen soggy apples not twelve feet away. She was hungry, starving, she was cold, and it was raining.

Ivy turned her face upwards to the night sky with eyes closed. She let the rain droplets fall on her face and felt the cold dribble of water down her cheeks and neck. When she looked back at Slaughter, she saw a pale, frightened, little man with mouth agape and shoulders drooped.

"Was that Harry Potter?" asked Slaughter at last. His voice quivered. He searched the faces of his fellow snatchers. His voice raised to a shriek. "Was that him?" The others were dumb-founded and unable to speak. "Was Harry Potter not standing right here and we let him get away?" he shouted.

Slaughter pointed his wand at Ivy, stormed across the short distance to her, and pressed the point of it against her forehead.

"Were you meeting him here? Were you with him?" Slaughter shouted."Tell me the truth!"

"No," said Ivy with a shake of her head. "Truly, sir, as Merlin is my witness, I had no idea an abandoned apple orchard could be so damned run amuck with our lot."

"Shut it!" shouted Slaughter. He hit Ivy over the head with his wand. "We are not your lot. We will never be your filthy 'lot'!"

Slaughter screamed. "Potter!" Ivy ducked. A bolt of lightning erupted from his wand, past her ear, blasted against the shed, and burnt a long arc across its front.

Slaughter turned to the others. "The dark lord will kill us for our failure," he said with a panicking tinge, "he will kill all of us."

There was a long moment of pause accented only by the sound of steady rain.

"He doesn't need to know," offered a voice to the right. It was Bethal, the hag-woman from Pyre.

"We won't tell him," said a snatcher behind Slaughter and to the left. His name was Merker. "We won't tell nobody."

"He will know," snapped Slaughter. "He will look into our eyes and he will know."

"But wait," said the wizard named Swede. "The dark lord's got no cause to look in my eyes."

"Yeah," said Tillik, "you being the leader and all. He'd have a go at you, not us."

Swede nodded, "fact be known, you told us to put up our wands."

Slaughter whirled round on his mate. "What?" he shouted. "I said no such thing."

"Sure, you did," added Bethal catching onto Swede's play, "and I'm pretty sure you asked the little Potter fidget if you could join him."

"You lying dung-troll!" shouted Slaughter as he whirled round to Bethal. "You're just trying to save your filthy skin."

"Of course I am," said the short gray-haired woman as she lifted her wand towards Slaughter. "And maybe gain favor with the dark lord, us having captured you, and all."

All manners of chaos ensued.

Slaughter's snatchers were split three and three on where their loyalties lay. Wands were up and blasting away at each other. Several disapparated and were gone. Several were locked in a deadly duel. Slaughter squirmed in the mud trying to remove Bethal's leg-lock curse. Ivy, in the commotion, attempted to crawl away on all fours.

As fast as the skirmish started, it was over. Swede lay unconscious a short distance off and Merker was brain-addled from a Mumbly-Mouth curse. The others were gone either by apparition or by fleeing on foot.

Slaughter freed himself from Bethal's Leg-Lock and chased down Ivy. Not only did he catch her and drag her back to the shed by her hair, but he pinned her flat, facedown in the mud, and hit her with his fists over and over across the shoulders and back. He was enraged from the betrayal of his team members, he was fevered from the fight, and he was mad with fear over his failing Voldemort. He screamed at her and he screamed at the night sky. He shouted senseless curses intermixed with long strings of obscenities. A bolt of lightning flashed and thunder roared in response, which brought him to his senses and stayed hand at last.

"Stand," Slaughter commanded as he released Ivy from his hold and stood, but his voice was hollow and lacking conviction.

Ivy stood with great effort but remained bent at the waist. She had stabbing pains from the beating. She was soaking wet, through and through, from head to toe. She was covered in mud and her legs felt as if they were rooted to the ground beneath her.

"Please," said Ivy softly as she looked up, "no more - you win."

Slaughter was struck by the young woman's state, of which he was fully responsible. Her eyes were filled with tears but she did not cry, not in front of him, not in front of this horrible man he had come to be.

Slaughter had chased down muggle-borns; men, women, and children, whose only fault was the "gift" of magic that singled them out, changed their worlds, and for many, whisked them away from everything and everyone they ever knew. Slaughter's end was nearing. The same callous indifference he had shown all of these people, now waited for him, to be served up by Voldemort himself or one of his all-too-eager death eaters.

His name was _not _"Slaughter" - that name was a joke. His name was "Robert", which was his father's name also. He did the dark lord's bidding with both efficiency and cruelty, and regardless of his name, Slaughter or Robert, he would be extinguished, snuffed out like a lit candle, and thrown away like useless chaff.

Slaughter reached out and touched Ivy's cheek with the back of his hand. "So young and so pretty," he said. He sighed deeply.

Ivy began the process of retreating into herself, of escaping into her own mind and letting all of which was on the outside, run its course. Her mind was protecting itself when her laughter, her smiles, her clever wit, and her strength could no longer do so.

Slaughter continued. "I don't hate muggle-borns. I never did. Gathering them up was just business." He took hold of a small amount of Ivy's hair, pulled at it gently, allowing it to pass through his fingers. Muddy water pressed from the thick curl. Slaughter watched the droplets roll down the length of his hand to soak into his sleeve.

"If you lived past today," said Slaughter to Ivy, "where would you go?"

Ivy trembled but not from fear. She was beyond cold and her emotions were all but spent. "I don't understand." Her eyes turned downcast and her voice was almost a whisper. She was done. Whatever happened next would be the end for her, whether she lived through it or not.

"If I let you go. If I let you walk away, where would you go?"

"I would go to Bristol," said Ivy in a flat voice devoid of any emotion.

"To what? Catch a ship? Sail away?"

Ivy gave a slight nod of her head which pulled the hair in Slaughter's fingers. She didn't notice.

"Me, I'd make for France or Spain, you know, close but distant for now - away from all of this. Then, maybe further. I've always wanted to visit the orient."

"I just want to go." Ivy shrugged. "Anywhere."

Slaughter twirled her hair around his fingers and stared at it for a long while before letting it go. "Right," he said. "Go on then."

Ivy looked up into Slaughter's eyes.

"There's nowhere safe, you know," added Slaughter. "You are dead and I am dead. We are all dead, you for your mud blood and me for letting Potter escape." He sighed again. "Go as far as you like, but all of this will find you in time. The world will burn."

"You're letting me go?" said Ivy. Her voice was still flat and unchanged because she was not capable of raising hopes.

"Don't think too poorly of me, little miss," said Slaughter. He turned then and dragged Swede over to Merker, the mumbled wizard. He gathered their wands as Ivy watched with uncomprehending eyes. He grabbed hold of both men's collars with one hand and swished his wand through the air with the other. "As I said, it was just business." The next moment, they were gone. Ivy was left alone before the battered old shed, standing under a deluge of cold rain, and in mud up to her ankles.

In time, she returned to the shed and gathered up the group's belongings.

She took a few nibbles from the cooling apples, bagged them, and placed them in her pack.

She sat with Benjamin for a long while and made him proper for when he would be found - hopefully by muggles - and returned to his family.

When Dexter returned, not long after, she took him back with no words spoken. The next day, when they were well away and the sun had shown bright and clear, she clouted him over the head and swore she would box his ears - not the cupped hand striking of his ears, but literally removing them and sealing them up in a box, if he ever ran out like that again. She cried then, with loud heaving sobs, for almost an hour. It was the last time she ever did, even when she had greater cause to.

The End.


End file.
